To Drink, or Not to Drink

I can type up a storm at the moment. I have had two glasses of Fish Eye reisling. Crisp. Tasty. Refreshing. Let's back up just a bit. I am a social drinker. Have been one since I was a teenager. I'm not entirely sure what her motive was, but my mother took something of a demystifying approach to alcohol. On holidays, when there was wine around, usually something awful like cold duck, we could have a glass once we were high school age. At peer group parties at that time of my life, I'd stand around holding a can of some equally awful beer like Hamm's or Black Label. I didn't actually like beer until I went to college and experienced dark beers by the pitcher at Mama Rosa's Italian Restaurant near campus. Something that tasted good! What a revelation! I didn't mind the nice little head buzz, either. I've rarely been in a frame of mind to get drunk, like it was the goal of the evening. On the handful of occasions I have set out with that in mind, the results have not been pretty. I remain a social drinker. But lately there has been a new twist. I suffer from neurogenic pain in my hands. Alcohol is a nervous system depressant. When I have a couple of drinks, the pain in my hands and wrists is significantly diminished. Is this merely a happy coincidence? Or something I could become dependent on? All I know is that I still have to wait more than six weeks to see the next doctor, an orthopedic hand specialist. I've had the feeling for some time that a neurologist might be more likely to be helpful, but I'm just the patient. Until then, I'm relying on physical therapy and a drink or two. Cheers.